


living skin

by distira



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distira/pseuds/distira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sergio works at a tattoo parlor.  fernando wants a tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	living skin

Friday nights usually slow down when people start sobering up.

Sergio's sprawled across the couch that's set up in the front next to the reception desk. It's their official waiting area, but more often than not it's a comfortable place for Sergio and Silva to nap. Sergio's turned down at least five drunk guys tonight and actually tattooed two others (one of them was finishing a back piece, though, and it took for-fucking- _ever_ ). It's been quiet for about a half an hour and Sergio's really, really hoping he's in the clear. He's ready to crash.

"Incoming," Jesús says just as Sergio's eyes are starting to slip closed.

"Fuck," Sergio replies. He straightens up halfway and plasters on a smile for the three guys who walk in. The bell over the door dings.

They're drunk, which is not entirely surprising. The bald one's still holding a beer. Sergio can't tell if the bottle's empty or not. The shortest of the three has studs in both of his earlobes and heads straight for the display of metal to the left of Jesús's desk. Jesús, for his part, raises his eyebrows at Sergio as if to say _they're all yours_ and disappears into the back, presumably to find Silva. The third guy has a fauxhawk, freckles, and a tight t-shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the definition in his chest and arms. He ambles up to stand in front of Sergio, who is approximately at eye-level with his crotch.

"I want a tattoo," he says.

"Yeah?" Sergio decides to humor him. He has to crane his neck to look at the guy's face. "Where?"

"Everywhere," the guy says. It comes out surprisingly decisive, despite his slurring.

"What's your name?" Sergio asks.

"Fernando."

"Okay, Fernando, how about you take a look at our designs-" Sergio points at the wall where his most recent designs and prints are displayed "-and let me know exactly what you want."

For a second, Fernando doesn't move. He stares at Sergio's lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own. Sergio looks away, and then Fernando obeys, drifting towards the wall. He crouches down to look at the drawings that are closest to the ground. The muscle in his thighs is visible through his jeans, and when he leans forward a little bit, his t-shirt rides up enough to expose a slip of skin at his lower back.

Sergio only stops staring because Silva comes out of the back, aims a karate kick at his shoulder and nearly sends him sprawling onto the floor. Sergio glares. Silva grins.

"What can we do you for?" Silva asks, ostensibly to the group at large but he's zeroed in on the guy checking on the piercings. He leaves Sergio to pick himself up off of the couch and heads for the counter. Sergio chuckles to himself.

"Dunno what he wants," the bald guy says, waving his bottle in piercing guy's general direction. "He wants a tat, though." He points at Fernando. "A butterfly. Tramp stamp."

The guy stands up and the skin of his lower back is hidden again by his shirt. Sergio reaches reflexively for his own lower back, rubbing his fingers over the spot where he knows his siblings' names are written. He wants to put ink on this guy. It would look so good, he thinks, ink on skin that pale. He's got a half-formed idea of what he wants to do when he remembers that he can't.

"How about a tongue piercing, then?" Sergio hears Silva ask. "It'd suit you."

"Pepe, what d'you think?" The guy says. Sergio focuses back on the bald guy, Pepe.

"Villa, you spilled half my beer in the street on the way over here, you can pierce your dick for all I care," Pepe answers. Sergio has to stop himself from laughing.

"He can't get any ink, though," Sergio tells Pepe, jabbing his thumb towards the pale guy. "Not until he's sober."

"You hear that, Nando? We'll come back tomorrow," Pepe says.

"I don't want a fucking butterfly," Fernando says. He moves towards Pepe and changes his mind halfway, instead backing into the couch and falling half over.

"Yeah? What d'you want, then?" Sergio asks, because Silva's taken Villa into the back instead of his workspace and Sergio really doesn't want to hear whatever they're getting up to.

"Dragon," Fernando mumbles into the couch cushion.

"He's a sleepy drunk, sorry," Pepe apologizes on Fernando's behalf. Sergio shrugs.

"Or something original," Fernando continues. He says the last word with a flourish and waves his hands around.

"Sure, man," Sergio agrees. "Next time."

Fernando stretches a little, shifting around. His back arches off of the couch just enough to pull his t-shirt up again and now Sergio can see his hipbones. There are freckles littering the pale skin.

When Sergio drags his eyes back up, Fernando's grinning at him. He winks. Sergio's eyebrows shoot up.

"Tell me about yours," Fernando says. He reaches out to tug on Sergio's shirtsleeve. Sergio obligingly moves closer to the couch, and Fernando's fingers slip around his bicep, tracing nonsense patters against the sleeve tattoo that decorates his upper arm. Sergio rotates his arm so Fernando can see the inside. Fernando pokes at the blank space inside the Star of David.

"That one's for my friend," Sergio says quietly. "Antonio."

"'S nice," Fernando says. He moves to wrap his fingers around the bracelet on Sergio's wrist.

"That's for my brother, we have matching ones."

"Who's getting matching tattoos?" Silva asks, coming out of his workspace. Sergio hadn't even noticed him coming out of the back room. Villa comes out of the room behind Silva.

"We should," he offers. His words are a little thicker, and Sergio can see the glint of a fresh piercing in his tongue when he opens his mouth. "We're both David."

"Maybe next time, sweetheart," Silva all but leers.

"Are you sure I can't get anything?" Fernando squeezes his fingers around Sergio's wrist. Sergio's attention snaps back.

"Yeah," he says. Fernando pushes his lower lip out in a pout.

"I like," he starts. Then he pushes against Sergio to flop over the arm of the couch and point at the drawing that's on the edge of Jesús's desk. Sergio had done it earlier in the day, but he keeps most of his drawings on Jesús's desk, otherwise they'll get lost. "I like that. Can I have it?"

"Aw, c'mon, Sergi," Silva coos. He's got his hand tucked into Villa's back pocket. Sergio makes a mental note to tease him later.

"Fine," Sergio says. He grabs a black Sharpie from the pen holder on Jesús's desk. "C'mere."

"No," Fernando says. Sergio frowns. "On the chair."

Fernando hauls himself up and makes his way over to one of Sergio's chairs. He drapes himself over it and pulls up his shirt. Sergio swallows hard and counts backwards from ten in an effort to keep himself from thinking of what he'd like to do to Fernando on that chair that doesn't involve tattooing.

"Okay, then," he says, and pulls up a stool. He uncaps the marker and takes a look at the drawing Fernando picked.

"On my-" Fernando is cut off when the marker hits the skin just outside of dip in his hip. "Oh." His voice is a little breathier now, and Sergio is half-hard in his pants. He ignores it, because he's a professional, and starts drawing in earnest.

\---

"So," Silva says when Sergio comes in the next morning. "That was a fun night."

Sergio grunts. Silva hands him a cup of coffee and flops down on the couch. Sergio sips gratefully at the drink and burns his tongue. "Fucker!" He exclaims. He kicks gently at Silva's knees until the piercer shifts over on the couch to make room for him. "Fun for you, maybe."

"Oh baby, was it ever," Silva grins. "Let me tell you, Sergio, I can _not_ wait to find out what he can do with his tongue."

"Woah, now!" The bell above the door rings and Sergio and Silva both look up. "You wouldn't be talking about Villa now, would you?"

The number of people who have come back to the shop after being turned away drunk is in the single digits. Most of them don't want to return, let alone bother to retrace their steps to find the place. So Sergio is a little surprised to see Fernando, grinning in the doorway.

"I was actually, but let's talk about you instead," Silva says. "How can Sergio help you?"

The elbow Silva sinks into Sergio's ribcage is hardly subtle, but Sergio does his best not to react. Instead, he looks back up at Fernando and shrugs. "Back so soon, huh?"

Fernando grins. "Couldn't stay away," he says. There's a teasing lilt to his voice and his words are coming clearer and faster now than they were last night. Sergio wonders how he doesn't have a massive hangover. "And," Fernando continues, "I kinda wanted to make this permanent." He tugs up the hem of his shirt to reveal the slightly-faded Sharpie drawing Sergio had done last night.

"I dunno about 'kinda'," Sergio says. "You’ve gotta be pretty damn sure about a tattoo."

"Okay then," Fernando says. "I'm pretty damn sure I wanna make this permanent." His fingers are skittering over the design. Sergio swallows hard.

"Awesome!" Silva leaps up from the couch and heads over to Jesús's desk.

"Where's Navas?" Sergio asks.

"Home for the weekend," Silva replies, rolling his eyes at Sergio. "You knew that, he requested it ages ago. Anyway, Fernando, sign here and fill this out-" he shoves some paperwork and a pen at Fernando "-and then you can take your shirt off and hop right back in that chair."

Fernando does as instructed. Sergio coughs and does his best not to stare at the way the muscles in his back ripple when he pulls his t-shirt off.

"You might need to uh. Pull your jeans down just a little," Sergio says, only partly out of selfish motivation. The design does sprawl a little underneath the waistband of Fernando's jeans.

"Yeah?" Fernando asks. He grins and pops the button on his fly, and then he twists his hips just a little as he pushes at the denim. "Not a problem."

\---

They talk during the session. Sergio learns that Fernando's from Madrid, born and raised, and that he plays football for his university team, which explains the defined muscles in his chest and abs. Sergio pulls the skin of Fernando's hip taught with his left hand as he starts to work, and he can feel the muscles tensing at his touch. He learns that Fernando's an Atletico fan and that he's in his last year of studying Spanish history.

"Not Atleti, man," Sergio groans. He pauses working for a second to stretch out his hand.

"What, don't tell me you're a Real fan," Fernando says, narrowing his eyes. "That might be a deal breaker."

Sergio raises his eyebrows. "I am. Them and Sevilla, gotta support the hometown."

He goes back to work and starts to field questions about his own life. He tells Fernando about the rest of his tattoos, and about his brother and sister. He tells Fernando that he went to art school for two years before dropping out and coming to work here.

"So, you live alone? Or with the girlfriend?" Fernando asks.

Sergio snorts. "Alone. No girlfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

"You don't quit, do you?" Sergio asks.

"Nope," Fernando says easily. He smiles for a second and then winces as Sergio fills in a spot right on the ridge of his bone.

It takes a while to finish. Silva takes care of three walk-ins and makes another coffee run before Sergio's cleaning up and handing Fernando his care instructions.

"Was this your first tattoo?" He asks, careful not to let any innuendo creep into his voice. He watches as Fernando covers up his exposed skin again, and squeezes his hand into a fist. His palm is warm from being pressed against Fernando's stomach.

"Yeah, you were my first," Fernando smiles, and Sergio has to force his facial muscles to smile instead of let his mouth hang open.

\---

"You let him go without getting Villa's number for me?" Silva demands. He's holding a bag of Chinese take away that Sergio desperately wants to eat.

"I thought you already had it!"

"Wrong," Silva chides. He puts the bag down and fishes his laptop out of his backpack. "But that's okay, I've got it anyway."

Sergio tears into a carton of pork fried rice. "How?"

"Facebook."

\---

Silva makes himself comfortable on a bench outside the Economics building and checks his watch. His own art history class is probably just beginning, but he rarely goes to that lecture anyway, and he happens to know, via Facebook and a few strategic text messages, that Villa has a class in the Econ building that should be letting out any minute now. It's warm outside and he's just starting to doze off, tired from a late shift the night before, when he hears students start to pour out of the building.

He stands up and swings his backpack over one shoulder. He drifts with the flow of students for a minute before finding Villa.

"Hey!" He greets. Villa looks over at him and smiles.

"Hey, you go here?"

"Yeah, man. Linguistics," he says. "You?"

"Marketing," Villa replies. Silva falls into step beside him. "I didn't think you were in school."

Silva shrugs. "It's for my parents, mostly. 'Just in case', all that crap. How's your tongue, by the way?"

To his surprise, Villa doesn't blush. Instead, he smiles again and shows his teeth. His eyes crinkle at the corners. Silva finds himself smiling back. Villa slips his tongue out and Silva shivers for the silver barbell that glints in the afternoon sunlight. "A little sore, not too bad. I'm talking normally again," Villa says.

"That's good, sometimes it takes longer than three days for it to start healing up," Silva says.

"Three days, huh? You been counting or something?" Villa starts to turn off of the sidewalk. He gropes in his pockets for his keys and turns to look at Silva.

"Yeah, maybe," Silva says. He shakes his hair out of his eyes. "You gonna invite me up? We should chill. I'm free until five."

Villa twirls his keys around his index finger for a second before jerking his head in the direction of the house. "Easy there," he laughs as he swings the door open and Silva moves to push him against the wall. "I live with three other guys." He peels himself away from Silva and throws his bag and keys down on the couch before grabbing Silva's wrist and leading him up the stairs.

"So this is your room?" Silva asks. Villa closes the door.

"Yep."

"Good." Silva doesn't hesitate in pushing Villa against the wall this time, pressing his body up against Villa's and kissing him, open mouthed and unhurried. His tongue is gentle around Villa's piercing, but his lips are firm. Villa answers back, sliding his hands down Silva's waist to dig at the skin above his jeans.

"So since your tongue's sore," Silva pants when they break apart, "I'll do the honors this time."

He pushes Villa's shirt out of the way as he slides gracefully to his knees and goes to work at Villa's belt buckle, which falls apart with a clink that makes Silva shiver. He tugs at Villa's jeans and boxers until they're about halfway down his thighs. Villa's most of the way to hard. "But don't think I won't expect you to return the favor at a later date," Silva says before licking his lips and giving Villa's cock a firm stroke before sliding his mouth over the head.

"Shit," Villa grunts. His hands are clenched into fists by his sides. Silva moves his hands to bracket Villa's hips as he swirls his tongue over the head of Villa's cock and then moves to take him deeper. He lets his jaw go slack and he can feel drool and precome leaking out of the corner of his lips. He bobs his head back and forth a few times and then pulls off. A strand of spit connects his lips to Villa's dick.

"You can touch, you know," he says before going back down. Villa groans and moves one of his hands to stroke back Silva's hair, carding through it gently. Silva hums around Villa and the hand in his hair tightens. He drops one of his own hands to unzip his fly and palm himself.

Silva moves his head back and forth rapidly, occasionally tilting his head to let Villa's cock poke at his cheek. He looks up at Villa and pulls off until just the very tip of Villa's cock is in his mouth, an dthen he smiles.

"Fuck," Villa stutters. His hips jerk and Silva swallows him once more before he comes.

Villa's zipped himself back up but Silva hasn't quite finished wiping his mouth when the door opens.

"David, fuck my life," Fernando calls as he enters the room and throws himself onto Villa's bed. Silva clears his throat loudly.

"Dude, knock," Villa says. He looks down at Silva in apology. Silva reluctantly takes his hand out of his pants.

"I don't even have his number, goddamn," Fernando moans.

"Who the fuck are you talking about?" Villa asks.

Fernando turns to face them for the first time. Silva musters up his best glare, but he's pretty sure it's undermined by the fact that he has a tiny bit of come at the corner of his mouth. He pokes his tongue out to lick at it. "Sergio," Fernando says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Silva stands up. He digs his phone out of his back pocket. "I'm gonna give you his number and tell you that he's gonna be at the bar just off of the north end of campus on Thursday night, and then you're going to say thank you and leave."

\---

Sergio usually goes out on Thursdays, because he works Friday nights. The bar near campus is crowded, but not to the point of discomfort. Sergio gets a drink and sits down. He wonders if he's flying solo tonight or if one of his friends will show up.

"Hey," someone says. The latter, then, Sergio thinks. He turns.

"Oh! Hey, Fernando," Sergio replies. "Sup."

"Nothing much, you?"

Sergio shrugs. "Same. How were your classes and shit this week?"

Fernando waves his hands around a little. "Fine. Boring. You know."

"Not really," Sergio says. "Art school was pretty interesting, while it lasted."

"Yeah? Better than history, I bet."

They're yelling over the crowd. Sergio pauses for breath. He takes a lot sip of his drink and looks at Fernando over the top of his glass. His hair's still spiked up into a fauxhawk and he's wearing a shirt that shows off all the right muscles. Sergio puts his glass down a little too hard.

"How's the tattoo?" He asks, at the same time as Fernando says, "How's the shop been?"

"It's fine," Fernando says. "A little itchy. Hey, I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

Sergio stays seated for a moment, watching Fernando's ass as he retreats through the crowd, before he thinks to himself in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Silva that him he's being an idiot.

The bathroom is big and empty, except for Fernando, standing in front of the mirror and frowning.

"Hey," Sergio says. His voice echoes off of the tiles.

"Hey, I don't get it, man," Fernando says. He turns around to face Sergio. "If you aren't into this or whatever you can just say so and not be awkward about it, you know."

"Hold up, what?"

"You can just tell me to back off, it's okay," Fernando continues. "I get it, it's chill."

"Hey, man," Sergio says slowly. He holds his hands up, palms out. "I don't know what you're talking about because I've been trying not to jump your bones while I'm tattooing you, so."

Fernando, perhaps wisely, to save them both further embarrassment, Sergio thinks, decides to answer by pushing him up against the sinks and pressing their lips together. One of Sergio's hands comes up to grip the base of Fernando's neck and the other falls to his hip, the one with the tattoo. He presses his palm lightly over the spot where he knows there's ink. Fernando groans.

"Come back with me," Sergio says when the kiss ends.

"God, finally," Fernando exclaims. He laughs, and then grabs Sergio's wrist and heads out.

\---

They skip the grand tour of Sergio's apartment and head straight for the bedroom. Sergio's glad he sprang for an actual bed frame last month, because pushing Fernando down onto the futon in the living room wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying.

As it is, he covers Fernando's body with his own and Fernando goes to work mouthing at his neck and swiping his tongue across Sergio's jawline before nudging his cheek with his nose and bringing their lips together. Fernando's tongue is insistent and Sergio settles gratefully into the spread V of Fernando's legs as Fernando swipes his tongue over the roof of his mouth. Fernando's fingers move through Sergio's long hair, twirling strands of it, before he shifts his hips up and scoots them further onto the bed.

"Off," Fernando pants, tugging at the collar of Sergio's shirt. Sergio sits back and tugs the offending garment over his head.

"Better?" He asks, but Fernando's too busy pressing open mouthed kisses over his nipple to answer. Sergio doesn't mind. He cups the back of Fernando's head and moans when Fernando bites gently at the hardened flesh.

"Pants, too," Fernando insists finally. He pulls back and his lips are swollen and slick with spit. Sergio climbs off of the bed and shimmies out of his jeans and boxers and quickly as he can. When he turns back to Fernando, the other boy is on his stomach, reaching for Sergio's nightstand.

"Lube's under the pillow," Sergio grunts, leaning forward and taking two palmfuls of Fernando's ass. He squeezes experimentally and Fernando groans. "Condoms, too." He forgets to be embarrassed that he hasn't put things away after a one-night stand a few weeks ago. His bed hasn't gotten a lot of traffic lately.

Fernando wriggles his hips until Sergio lets go of his ass, then he pulls himself into a kneeling position. "Wanna ride you," he says, breathless. Sergio fists his cock and thinks, yeah, he could get on board with that. He reaches out for the lube, but Fernando's already tossed the tube away. "I got it," he says. Sergio watches how his jaw goes slack when he feeds his fingers up inside himself. He likes how the blush spreads from Fernando's cheeks down to cover his chest as he works in three fingers, scissoring and twisting them.

"Jesus," Sergio moans. Fernando tosses him a condom.

"C'mon, c'mon," Fernando says. He pushes at Sergio's shoulders until Sergio's lying back and then he moves to straddle the tattoo artist. Sergio's cock, sheathed in the condom and slick with lube now, slips up between Fernando's asscheeks. Fernando reaches back behind himself to grip the base of Sergio's cock as he lowers himself down.

Sergio's hips twitch and he grabs handfuls of sheets to stop himself from driving up into Fernando, who's impossibly tight. He waits until Fernando nods at him to bring his hands to Fernando's hips. His fingers hit the raised tattoo on Fernando's side and he moans, bucking up a little. Fernando starts to move his hips and push himself up and down. Sergio keeps moving his palm over the tattoo, feeling how different it is right now from the rest of Fernando's skin. He wants to feel the scab go down. He wants to know what it's like to run his hand over this skin and have it feel smooth.

He moves his other hand to fist Fernando's cock and Fernando picks up the pace suddenly. "Harder, fuck, I'm close, harder," Fernando grunts out. He puts his hand on Sergio's chest to steady himself.

Okay, Sergio thinks. They'll have time to draw it out later. He lifts his hips up off the bed and starts driving into Fernando, who comes a minute later. He clenches and keeps working his ass on Sergio's cock until Sergio follows.

They sleep on the futon that night. Sergio figures they can wash the sheets in the morning.

\---

"So I think I want another one," Fernando announces when he walks into the shop a week later. "Hey, Silva, Villa says hey."

Silva raises his hand and turns back to his customer.

"Yeah?" Sergio asks. He takes his gloves off and starts getting together care instructions for the customer he's just finished working on. "What's it gonna be this time?"

"Dunno," Fernando says easily. He saunters over to Sergio and drops a kiss on the top of his cheekbone. "I was thinking the last one worked out pretty well, we could try something like that again."

"Sure," Sergio says. He sends the customer up to the desk to let Jesús take care of payment. Fernando tosses him a Sharpie. "How about we take this to the back room?"

"Perfect," Fernando says. He loops a finger through Sergio's belt loop and starts walking.

"Use protection!" Silva shouts from his workspace. Sergio flips him off and follows Fernando into the back room.

Friday afternoons are slow, anyway.  



End file.
